“The fuck do you want? You kicked me out of the goddamn order.”
Force Ghost Obi-Wan exchanges an uncertain look with Force Ghost Luke, then clears his throat and begins to explain. “It’s Anakin. He’s gone off the rails.”
“Again?” I scratch my nuts, sniff (not too bad, little bit o’ musk) and sit up on my futon. “He’s a motherfucking ghost. How the hell could he ‘go off the rails?’ ”
Luke sighs. “He wants another chance at life, only with full knowledge of everything he did, so he can shape our history to fit his wishes. Accordingly, he’s traveled back in time and re-inhabited his fetal body.”
“Whoa.” I give him a disbelieving look. “He’s gonna grow up as a super-intelligent infant, then alter events with his knowledge of the future?”
Obi Wan nods. “And in so doing, life as we know it will cease to exist.”
“Which brings us to you,” Luke continues. “You have a way with mature women. We were hoping you could convince my…” His face twists in revulsion, but he manages to control it. “My grandmother to take him to Dagobah, where Yoda—still alive in our past—can expel future Anakin from the fetus, and protect our timeline from total obliteration.”
“Me?” My forehead wrinkles in confusion. “I was kicked out of the order for seducing hot moms…and now you want me to seduce your grandmother?”
Luke clenches his fists and stares at the ground, lips trembling in held-back rage. Obi Wan shoots him a quick, concerned glance. “If at all possible, we would prefer you don’t engage in coitus—”
I raise an eyebrow. “That’s a tall fucking order. Hot moms gravitate to my wiener like—”
“—but if it is a matter of LAST RESORT…” He squinches his eyes, hisses through his teeth, then shakes his head in resignation. “Then do what you must.”
Luke chokes back a sob.
“I’ll wrinkle space-time.” Obi-Wan raises his hands and splays his fingers. “Sit this one out, Luke. And try not to think of your grandmother with…yeah.”
I resist the urge to clap my hands and rub them together. Yes!
SEVERAL DECADES EARLIER…
I materialize on the periphery of a Tatooine market, and immediately lock eyes with Shmi Skywalker. She startles in place and slaps a palm to her heart. “Oh my!”
“Hey, what’s up?” I ask hurriedly. Before she can answer, I blurt, “Your future evil son has Dark Side mind-ported into your fetus. He wants to redo his life and assfuck the future. We have to find Yoda so he can kick out his future consciousness and—”
[Too late! I put him in a coma!] Anakin telepathically crows from inside Shmi’s womb. [I had to use up my Dark Side reserves, but just you wait—I’m growing stronger by the minute! It won’t be long before I rip him apart and put an end to your plan!]
“Shmi, did you hear that?” I ask.
“Yes, but…” She stutters and stammers, then manages, “Who are you?”
“A concerned citizen and professional Man Whore. We have to stop future Anakin. But without Yoda…” I clench my fists and shake my head. “Dammit!”
Then I remember: I have one last card to play; I open my eReader to a Kent Wayne novel, activating its reality distortion powers. Magic flash.
Shmi straightens, snapping her fingers in a lightbulb epiphany. “If we induce enough trauma, he might leave of his own accord!”
“What are you suggesting?” I ask doubtfully.
She grabs my hand and strides toward a hut. “This way,” she orders.
As soon as we’re inside, she grabs my crotch and kisses me hard. “Whoa!” I protest. “What are you doing???”
“Shut up,” she growls. “You’ll understand soon enough.”
“All right, but you might want some lube and maybe some cocoa butter. I’m pretty damn girthy…”
She steals my breath with another kiss and continues to undo my buttons and zippers. Pretty soon we’re banging like a couple of horned up teenagers.
“What does this accomplish?” I gasp. “Not that I’m complaining, but—”
Then I hear Anakin from inside her womb: [Whoa! HEY! No, that is DISGUSTING!] His revulsion comes through our psychic link, along with a hazy impression of my wiener throttling toward his face—the most horrific POV you could ever imagine.
“It’s working!” she pants. “Hit it from the back!”
“Doggy style it is!” We get on our knees and I start slappa-slapping away like my life depends on it, (which, in this case, it actually does)
As Shmi moans in orgasmic pleasure, Anakin rages, [That is my MOTHER, you troglodyte! HOW DARE YOU!!!]
[How dare YOU, motherfucker?] I rasp. Then I grin. [Actually, I should call you something else—right now, I’m the literal definition of that goddamn word.]
“We need to up the ante and blow a load in his eyes!” Shmi yells. “Quick—what’s the easiest way to make you cum?”
“Get on top!” I shout. We reposition and start humping away. [Here it comes, you Stewie Griffin knockoff!]
[No! Don’t you—oh God, I CAN’T!!!!] Future Anakin flees from the womb, leaving my timeline whole and intact. Too bad, because I grab Shmi’s ass and—
Kent Wayne wins again!
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